


Gone

by Oricalle



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Angst, Captivity, Discussion of Death, Drabble, F/F, Separation, Two Viewpoints
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:47:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27114905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oricalle/pseuds/Oricalle
Summary: A skirmish between the Order of Heroes and Hel's army of the dead ends with Laegjarn captured.As Laegjarn comes face to face with death herself, Gunnthra's attempts to reach her girlfriend leave her utterly drained.
Relationships: Gunnthrá/Laegjarn (Fire Emblem)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 11





	1. Gunnthra

**Author's Note:**

> Just as a brief note, this fic is meant to be in the same universe as my other Laegjarn/Gunnthra works!
> 
> They've both been summoned into the Order after their deaths.

When Hrid returns from his late night scouting, he can still see the light shining under Gunnthra’s door.

Normally, it would be the cause of no concern, but that’s what he thought five days ago, and every day after. He has seen the way his sister struggles to keep her head up during meals, how dark bags have formed beneath her eyes, and how her smile, once ever present, has not appeared in a week.

So he knocks on the door.

“Gunnthra?” He presses an ear against the wood. “Are you still awake?”

There is silence, for a moment, then the sounds of rustling blankets and the gentle patter of footsteps. As the door creaks open, he steps back, letting Gunnthra peer out into the dormitory’s common area.

“Did you find anything tonight?” she asks, but the look in her eyes betrays that she already knows the answer.

“No.”

She nods her head, then slowly begins to drift back into her room.

“Wait.”

Hrid carefully wedges his shoulder in the door, pushing his way inside. Gunnthra puts up no resistance, simply watching as he steps inside the room.

For its part, the room is much like he remembers it. The Niflian banner hangs on the wall, its gold trim flecked with dust. The bed is half-made, its right side immaculate while the left is disturbed. As he approaches the window, he sees that the potted plant that has adorned it for so long is still alive, its red bulbs facing towards the inky black night sky.

All the while, Gunnthra simply stares, her eyes looking like she’s seeing far past him and into something beyond.

“Have you been sleeping?” he asks.

For a moment, Hrid sees his sister tense up, but she relents quickly, her shoulders sagging.

“No. Not since they took Laegjarn.”

Answering the question seems to have taken the wind out of Gunnthra, and Hrid quickly strides across the room to sit next to her on the bed.

“We’re doing all we can, Gunnthra. She wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself like this.”

Gunnthra draws in a shaky breath.

“She’s not dreaming.”

As Hrid raises an eyebrow, she continues. “If she were dreaming, I would know. I could reach out...see where she is, if she’s okay. I could hear her voice and tell her we’re coming to save her.”

Hrid reaches an arm over, pulling Gunnthra closer as her tears begin to drip onto the blankets.

"I'm sure wherever she is, she's fighting to make it home. Laegjarn is strong."

With a shudder, Gunnthra nods. "She _is_ strong, and that's why I'm worried. She's always fighting, always putting on a brave face, never letting anyone see her falter. But even she needs to rest, and she comes to me for care. And now she's all alone... She’s not dreaming. What does that mean? What are they doing to her? What have they _done_ to her?”

Gunnthra’s hands clutch at the comforter, bunching it in her fists as she weeps into her brother’s tunic. Nodding slowly, he holds her close, the absence in the room felt deeper and more drastically than ever before.

“We promised that we would protect each other.”

Gunnthra sobs.

“I failed her.”


	2. Laegjarn

When Laegjarn wakes, the darkness still clings to her eyes.

She blinks to clear it, but it stays, shrouding her surroundings in shadows that she cannot break through. From what she can tell, she is in a cell, a cage surrounded by metallic bars that tilt gently inwards, as if threatening to collapse in and crush her.

As Laegjarn rises to her feet, she can hear whispering in the distance, voices in the mist that mutter and laugh. To her surprise, the cell’s door swings open. As she staggers closer, the voices grow louder, still hissing in unintelligible tones.

No one steps through the door.

She seizes her chance.

Laegjarn tries to dash through the door, but something stops her. Her legs no longer obey her, suddenly seizing up, and with a crash, she falls to the cold stone floor. The ethereal voices howl and shriek with laughter as pain shoots through her body.

As she looks up, a figure looms in the doorframe, floating inside. 

The woman is tall, her skin alabaster white against her dark black dress. An eerie violet glow surrounds her, and with every movement, Laegjarn thinks she hears bones shatter and snap. Death’s Sovereign looks down at her, and without a second thought, Laegjarn rises to her knees.

She wants to stand, to fight, but her thoughts dissipate before they can become actions, as if she is trapped in her own body.

“I believe,” Hel purrs, her dark expression rising to a smirk, “that your position here has been made quite clear.”

A dry chill runs through Laegjarn’s body as Hel’s bony fingers seize her chin, slowly raising her head until their eyes are locked together.

“You, flameborn, interest me. Your heart beats, you walk among the living, and yet death clings to you. I can see it in your eyes and feel it on your skin. You have felt my embrace once, have you not?”

When Laegjarn cannot open her mouth to respond, she realizes the question is one Hel already knows the answer to.

“You thought to escape me? That you could take your place back with them, as if you had not traded your life away?” As the Queen of Death laughs, the distant voices cackle along. “Breidablik itself sought to break your chains, but you belong to me. It seems I need remind you.”

Laegjarn strives to speak out, to shout her defiance, but Hel’s influence seems utterly unbreakable. The Queen lets her hand drop as she brings the other up to her chin, stroking gently as if in thought.

“And, as I recall, there is another. The Princess of Nifl, too, thinks she can slip my grasp. She will learn.”

“Don’t.”

Hel’s eyes widen slightly as Laegjarn’s voice slips out.

“Don’t you hurt her.”

“Such defiance.” In a flash, Hel is outside of the cage once more, the door slammed shut with a bang. “It will not last. You are in my domain, fireborn. Death will slowly seep into you, choking away the pitiful breath that damned Summoner gave you. Your muscles will weaken, your memories will fade, and in time, as with all things…”

The queen dissipates into the shadows that surround them.

“You will belong to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided I'd been a little too happy lately, so it was time to write some angst to make sure I don't go _too_ cheerful on you all.
> 
> Jokes aside, I had the idea for these scenes the other night and absolutely wanted to write them. This is a bit of a proof of concept, I may expand them both into a larger fic sometime later, but for now I just wanted to put them out and see how they look!
> 
> Any feedback would be extremely welcome, as always, I'd love to know how you felt about these scenes! I hope you have a wonderful day!
> 
> (wow it's weird saying that after we end with laeg locked in The Literal Underworld but y'know)


End file.
